Weird Happenings.

(From Tuesday, October 14, 2008)

Since I’ve returned to my training site three days ago, it has become clear to me that a full moon was approaching. The number of weird things that have happened have far exceeded any other three day period in my life…I think. I mean, there’s no way to be sure. But it’s just been a bit odd.

Let’s start with my experience on Saturday of travelling back. My group took a four hour bus ride in the morning, without air con because it is much cheaper. After the bus ride, we took a short 20-minute ferry, and then we had a very bumpy 30-minute drive in the back of a truck to our respective homes. After a long trip, all I wanted to do was hit the bathroom and then lay in my bed in front of the electric fan and pass out (due to both the long trip and a late night on Friday night). As soon as I arrived home, my nanay decides that it is definitely the best time to clean my room and change my bedding. Granted, I am very grateful that she has such a desire to do so, but my top priority was to get some good rest. Of course I am never allowed to help clean my own room (or do my own laundry or clean my own dishes or cook my own food, for that matter), so I decide that it’s a great time to relieve myself in the bathroom (hey, it was a long trip). If this were a sitcom, we would cue an extra to purposefully occupy the bathroom for a longer than necessary amount of time so that the main character must wait and painfully exercise abdominal muscles that she didn’t know she had (also cue audience laughter and ridiculous Seinfeld conversation). After both the bathroom goal and the room-cleaning/bedding-changing goals are completed, I decide that I’m way too sweaty to nap at all, and I take a quick Filipino-style bucket bath to cool down, minus soap of course. Who needs soap? Anyways, that’s neither here nor there.

I crash for about three hours until I hear a knock on my door—“Lyeeennnnn. Lyeeennnnn.” I answer, obviously groggy, “Oo?” [“Yes?}. Opening the door, I see the family is ready to go somewhere—they ask, “Oh, you will not come with us?”. This would not be an out of the ordinary question had I had any clue that we were going anywhere that evening, but my only answer was a very surprised, “Sa asa?” [“To where?”] “We will go to my nephew’s to eat.” “For pyesta?” “No, just to visit.” “Sige, I will change.” I quickly changed and must have looked like a total bum in my messy hair, black plastic eyeglasses, flip-flops, and saggy-butt khakis without a belt (saggy-butt syndrome is a direct result from hand-washing clothes). We arrive at the nephew’s house, where they apparently aren’t celebrating pyesta but they obviously are, and I start to feel dizzy. We walk up the stairs and take our seats, and although we are on an upstairs porch, there is no breeze and the mixed smells of the foods are nauseating. My body is trying to adjust from two weeks in almost constant air con to hot, hot climate again. The incense that is burning underneath my chair is floating directly into my nose. At this point, the family decides it’s time for an intervention. About ten people are all nodding as one person says, “Lyeeennn. We are very worried. You are looking too skinny. Almost sick. You have not been eating. Too skinny.” Is this really an intervention? Do they not see the pounds of food that I am forced to eat at every meal because I am told that I do not eat enough? (In reality, I eat plenty…way more than in America). Anyways, at this point, I just laugh and say, “Nooo…I’m still fat.” Not that I think I’m fat, but Filipinos throw the word “fat” around all too often, so I thought I would make a joke. Apparently, it was not the funniest. Anyways, dinner is being served and I am expected to eat first, of course being the American. I stand up and feel myself getting dizzier. The sweat starts. I sit back down, trying to fan myself and cool off—setting my water bottle behind me, it falls and knocks the burning incense over on the wooden porch. No biggie, except that I look like an idiot…maybe. Well, not yet. Since I don’t feel great, it is suggested that I eat, since that solves every sickness here. My aunt happily gets me some spaghetti, since I’m in no condition to stand and get my own food. As I eat the first bite, I am feeling worse and worse. Running down the stairs, I find a place for my plate and throw up all over the backyard. Yes, that’s me—the American who is puking downstairs while everyone watches. How kind of embarrassing. Well, that stopped the forced eating for the night. I gladly enjoyed water to re-hydrate myself and a 7-Up to calm the stomach. I definitely enjoyed twelve hours of sleep that night after returning home. The only thing that could have been better about that sleep is if I would have had a rehydrating IV directly into a vein, but I won’t be needy.

Since I’m on the skinny intervention topic, I am going to discuss a part of Filipino culture that is much more straightforward than they let on. It is said that Filipinos tend to avoid conflict at all costs and they often use a third-party to resolve any personal disputes that may arise. Filipinos are told that Americans are much more direct in their communication, which we are. There is, however, one situation where this rule is thrown out the window, for both cultures. It involves discussing the personal appearance of a person. You know how, in America, it is considered rude to tell a woman she is fat, or even ask her age? Well, if weight is an issue, they let you know (hence my apparent “skinniness” or the fact that someone I know is often called “tambok” fat). Obviously, often female PCVs have difficulty adjusting to this cultural difference, expectedly, since I have heard a few stories of other volunteers experiencing the, “If you eat less, you will become skinny, and then you will find a husband” talk. It doesn’t only stop at weight, though. Today, a boy at my training center said to me, “Ate Lynn, you have many pimples?” I said, “Usa ra….[Only one]”. He says, “Very oily.” I reply, “Oo, it is very hot here.” Can I just say, it wasn’t even a big pimple???

Another odd thing that has happened in the last three days is that I found out my “student helper” who lives with my family has apparently run off with her boyfriend. She was my favorite! This makes me so sad…especially since I was not even aware that she had a boyfriend. A while ago, we had the conversation about boyfriends, and she told me that after graduating, she hoped to work for awhile and not get married until later. Well, since she has a boyfriend now, that means she will definitely be getting married soon (those are Filipino expectations, seriously). And I don’t think she’ll be returning to school, even though she has only one semester remaining before graduating high school. So sad.

Tonight I was able to attend a birthday party, where two more odd events occurred. I spent about an hour being groped by a woman who was so happy to be “in touch” with her first American (a direct quote). I mean, it’s fine…she kept telling me how beautiful I am, and that’s just how the culture works sometimes (they’re touchy), but it was a bit uncomfortable, considering I’m not a very touchy person. I’m learning a lot of patience! There were about fifty people at this birthday party (a girl was turning 4). Of course, there was a giant cake. When the cake was cut, who do you think got the first piece? Well, if you guessed me, give yourself a pat on the back…because yes, the special American gets served first. I mean, don’t get me wrong, the cake was delicious—but I could definitely go with less special attention at these public events!

Anyways, this posting may seem a bit cynical, but I hope it doesn’t come across that way! Cultural differences are totally eye-opening and somewhat frustrating. The best way I’ve learned to deal with that small frustration is to just laugh about it and go with the flow. And that’s what I’m doing. Yes, puking all over at pyesta is slightly embarrassing, but heck, it makes for a great story. Getting told I have a lot of pimples? I mean, yeah it’s not exactly what I want to hear, but it has a catchy ring to it. And getting my hand held in every public location just in case I get lost, I mean….sometimes it’s obnoxious, but they mean well. I just gotta love it and take it in stride.